A Flower Blooms in More Than the Spring
by Kayliespillihp
Summary: Sometimes imaginary friends mean more than the real ones and sometimes we're too weak to protect them. These are the words Primrose Landing lives by. But when her therapist tries a new type of coping technique will she be able to make it in a world that was designed to forget her? Can she make it in a world of meisters, weapons, and madness? Can she make it at the DWMA?


Chapter 1

It's been close to thirteen years since I left him to die. A scared little girl much weaker than him running away from a fight. It's not exactly a cliche and according to my therapist it's not exactly my fault. But it's the same recurring nightmare I've been having for the past two weeks. It's the same scene from my childhood but something's off. He looks older and he always seems to see right through me. He's wearing a white mask almost identical to his father's but it's been cracked and slivers of it are missing. He'll walk through the hall beneath the guillotines trudging his feet along as if he were annoyed he has to carry the ligaments.

There's no sun in the room although there's a gaping hole in the ceiling revealing nothing but a purple miasma flooding the room. The room I had grown to couple with joy and laughter was now a crumbled wreck resembling my brothers LEGO towers when the cat would run right through them. "Hello?" My voice would echo. No one heard me and as I turned the corner I began to wonder if it was because he was ignoring me or because every other body in the room was laying on the floor drowning in a pool of their own blood. I low gasp flew out of my mouth before I could stop it. Now that my shock has caught his attention he turned to me hell fire dancing behind his molten irises. "You did this," He ground out. "No I didn't," I breathed, taking tentative steps backwards as he slowly but surely advanced toward me. He had his shoulders tensed and his fist clenched so hard I was scared his fingernails would rip right through his palm. The ground trembled in his quake grinding his teeth so goddamn hard I could've sworn he was using cement as chewing gum.

"No I swear it wasn't me!" I tried a bit more adamantly. Thirteen years might have passed but in this moment I still felt like that helpless little girl ready to turn tail and run. In my effort to avoid his scrutinizing stroll I had managed to step on something causing it to crack. I looked down beneath my clunky black boots, my own reflection taking the breath right out of my lungs. "You filthy Kishin," he spat. I tried to find a logical explanation as to my three red eyes and fangs dripping with saliva like a wild animal. This wasn't me! I'm not crazy! I swear! My subconscious yelled. "I'm not!"

"Um Prim?"

I looked up in a daze caught off guard by the wide eyes and snickering grins all pointed at me. A shiver runs up my spine as fear settles in the depths of my tummy. I press my back into the chair trying as hard as I could to disappear. The kishin! My mind keeps screaming. The walls go red in the one moment I have to blink. The three eyes mimicking my movements. You did it! You! It's your fault! Stop. Stop it! Stop this now! The rugged voice in my head and my soul go back and forth before I feel a light weight on my shoulders. I look over at my brother Milo and suddenly the world comes back into focus.

His comforting smile has me crash landing back into reality. "You're not what Ms. Landing? You're not paying attention? Listening to my lecture? Or perhaps there's another tale you've concocted to convince me you weren't once again sleeping in class?" Mrs. Johnson, my western civilizations teacher, concludes with a graceful placement of her hand on her hip; each syllable she proclaimed laced with authority. I bowed my head in embarrassment as the ocean of chuckles began with her not so small ripple. So the other kids they weren't Kishin's, they were just… laughing. I chance a glance at everyone again, their faces turning back into the plain jane features of all my classmates. I use the term classmates loosely perhaps puppets is a better term. The smell of mothballs thwarts my nose, rising from the cracks and crevices of my decrepit history book. My black flats squeak against the muted sky blue tile floor while my leg bounces anxiously. Today was supposed to be a yellow day.

The bells rings before Mrs. Johnson has a chance to reprimand me and I'm flying out the door not to keen on giving her an opening to.

I completely ignore all the windows flooding the cramped halls of the school with sunlight. There was only one place I had in mind and the ugly yelling from the end of the hall only slowed me down from my target. "Primrose! Jesus!" My brother caught my wrist and quickly spun me around to face him. He was huffing and puffing and unsurprisingly my best friend Lilliana was right beside him mirroring his actions. I watch them pitifully with one of my eyebrows raised. "This is sad. We need to get you two out of the house some more." They only groaned loudly in return causing me to grin and once again return to my trek at a much more relaxed speed but still the two barely managed to keep up. "We wouldn't need to keep up if you didn't teleport from place to place," Milo wheezed out, Lilliana shaking her head in agreement. "I don't teleport," I grouched with an eye roll so hard I'm sure they could hear it, "I just didn't want to give justice Johnson the chance to pulverize me with her words."

They both winced.

"Yeah she does seem to have it out for you," Lilliana mused. "It's not like you exactly make it hard for her though," Milo countered, "I mean falling asleep and screaming right in the middle of class! It's like your astral form was trying to get your real ass kicked!" He joked waving his arms around like a ghost to emphasize his point. I shoved him out of my face roughly which was hard to do considering he was a mountain compared to me. I did however succeed in messing up his hair, which he continued to complain about for the rest of our walk. Before I could open my mouth to retort Lilliana came to my rescue. "Milo shut up it looks a chinchilla no matter how much gel is in it!"  
"Shut up dog breathe! What do you know about style with those clunky ass sequins on your feet!" Cue Lilliana pouncing on my brother's shoulders practically ripping his hair out using said ruby red sequin flats as her weapon of choice.. I let the two bicker back and forth as we keep heading towards the stairs. The clouds start to roll in as we pass floor after floor trying their best to obscure the sun. I looked up, Milo and Lilliana's arguing background music, the sun is poking through the maze in the sky and as I smile up at it I swear I can hear the thing laugh.

"Earth to Prim! Hello?" Lilliana yelled snapping her fingers in front of me. "Huh?" I slurred turning back to her as Milo doodled in his notebook. Lilliana rolls her eyes in frustration which further frustrates me. "Geez what's with you today space case?" I look around left wondering when the hell we made it to the roof. I cradle my head in my hands my long onyx hair tickling my nose; more annoyed than anything by how I was letting time run away from me. "So I zone out a little," I shrug plucking one of the grapes from my maroon lunch box, "I'm crazy. I think I'm entitled to it." Neither one of them laugh only stiffen slightly before eyeing each other carefully and going back to what they were doing. A pregnant pause ensues in which I play with the split ends in my hair that seems to always be singed or frizzy. "I… just… was just wondering what you thought about the paper. Ya know since it's a group project!" She enunciated project by flicking my brother on the ear. Hard. "Damn! What the hell Lils!" Mother nature seemed to be on _Lil's_ side as the wind picked up blowing what was left of her auburn bob to obscure her flaming cheeks. I rolled my eyes yet again. These idiots. It's been an entire month and they still think I don't know they're dating. I chose to ignore the moment and spare Lilliana the embarrassment; something she never gifted me. They stared at each other far longer than was necessary having a silent conversation with their eyes that I broke by clearing my throat. "Um Lilliana?"

"Hm?" She hummed still far too interested in my brother to remember the better half of the Landing twins. "The project?" I growled glancing to look at her scribbles. "Oh right!" she squeaks before going back to her original spot. I rolled my eyes for the millionth time that day and not only because of my friends shameless, dare I say it, eye contact, but right in the left corner she had doodled a small, very crude, drawing of a death mask. I looked over at my brothers once blank pages that were now covered in drawings of Death, Soul, Maka, and Death the Kid. I ignored the pages that only caused pain and stood abruptly. "Prim?" My brother asked in genuine concern. "I'm gonna go home," I barely get out above a whisper. "But we still have the project," Lilliana reminds me. I give her a sad smile in return. "I like what you have," she beams slightly from my rare comment, "It fits the theme great." I don't give her or Milo the time to speak before I turn on a dime and softly make my descent to the ground level. How fitting that our poetry mid-term theme would be madness.


End file.
